


Living in the Currents You Create (I Know It's Not the Right Way to Go)

by StarsWithHiddenFires



Series: A Fake and Counterfeit Mask [3]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Gen, Josh is Sad, Panic Attack, agender Josh, asexual josh, gender questioning, i mean crossovers are cool but idk about that man, i selected non-binary enjolras on accident, ignoring things is definitely the way to make problems disappear am i right, nonbinary josh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 09:14:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8618566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsWithHiddenFires/pseuds/StarsWithHiddenFires
Summary: What is Josh?he, nO they couldn't breathe





	

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't proofread this  
> title from The Currents // Snakes by Bastille
> 
> possible warnings: panic attacks, misgendering-ish

Josh curled up into a ball, his (? their?) legs pulled up as tight as they could go, the stiff material of his (? their?) jeans tighttighttighT on his legs and thighs and calves and he (? they?) couldn’t breathe couLD NOT BREATHE

The hoodie was looselooseloose comforting and surrounding and hugging him (? them?) but he (? they?) felt empty emptyhollow he (? they?) wanted the air to fiLL his (? their?) lungs.

(pleasepleaseplease air air aIR)

(oh I need a breath, I need a breath)

(let me fill my lungs, let me fiLL MY LUNGS)

The edge of something dug into his (? their?) shoulder and his (? their?) hands shook at the cold and emotions.  But it was safe (safesafe) in the dark corner of the hotel room, the shades drawn and lights extinguished.  His (? Their?) phone lay discarded on the bed, the google search results of ‘can I not have a gender’ ‘am I broken if I don’t want intimacy’

(he (? they?) couldn’t even bring himself (? themselves?) to _type_ the word)

 still open from three days ago.  He (? They?) had closed out of twitter, tired (defeatedexhausted) from seeing all the comments from people about how _he_ was so _hot_ , how _he_ was their idol, how _he_ was the object of their desires (like he(? they?) was an emotionless _object_ to be discussed like he (? they?) had no feelings).  
 His (? Their?) feet began to grow numb and a muffled sob wrenched itself from his (? their?) lungs.  He (? They?) shoved a hand in his (? their?) mouth and bit on the knuckles as distraction.  He (? They?) just wanted the ground to swallow him (? them?) whole, so that he (? they?) would never see the light of cameras flashing or hear lewd comments or feel hands groping

(like _snakes_ twining around his (? their?) ankles and legs and bo d Y and it was too much toomuchtoomuch)

Several minutes went by, the only sound the faint keening and scrunch of Josh’s clothing as he (? they?) rocked back and forth in the small space between the bed and the wall.  At one point, the heat and the tingling and stiffness that had been growing in his (? their?) legs from the tight position and the tightness of the clothing and space became too much

(spaCE)  
(toO MUCH TOO MUCH)

(FR E EDO M ROB BI NGA ND LI FED EST RO Y ING)

He (? They?) wanted—no, _needed_ a breathe needed to feEL AIR ENTERING

He? (ThEY) needed to feel something

(something liKE BEFORE)

(didn’t want to feEL NUMB ANYMORE)

 ~~He~~ They were _tired_ of feeling empty, of playing dumb and going along with things, no matter _how_  much it got under ~~his~~ their skin.  It was a different sort of nothingness that ~~his~~ their gender was—that, ~~he~~ they could easily explain.

(even _if_ people would ask, “Are you really sure though? How long have you known? Is that even real? Isn’t just a phase" he didn't  _care_ )

The comments on his social media that ranged from the tame “OMG so hot!!” to the _much_ more obscene things, especially those that referenced that _~~he~~_ —no nONO, _THEY_ , were in a male body

(when it got really bad and ~~he~~ they could _feel_ the ghosts of the hands that yanked at his shorts and pulled at his pants and the raking of the eyes that hungrily drank in his exposed skin ~~he~~ they would try to remember ~~his~~ _their_ mom holding ~~him~~ _them_ close and whispering that “Josh, you’re my little alien displaced on this earth” and ~~his~~ _their_ breath would even out somewhat)

and practically salivated over ~~his~~ _their_ body like lust-driven machines and ~~he~~ _they_ couldn’T STOP THEM

(how _could_ Josh stop them they never ever ever ended they just kept coming and ~~he~~ _they_ were too nice and hated telling people what to not do)

and it all made ~~him~~ _them_ shake and tremble and feel even emptier and number and ~~he~~ _they_ didn’t know how long ~~he~~ _they_ could keep going like that because eventually the numbness would become like a black hole and ~~he~~ _they_ would suck in everything and anything and all light that those ~~he~~ _they_ loved

(Tyler)

 (Jenna)

 (Mark)

 (Brad)

 (Michael)

 (the whole crew)

 (his mom)

(his siblings)

(his friends)

and then eventually ~~he~~ _they_ wouldn’t be able to stand it and would c r a c k.

 ~~He~~ _They_ would be left alone.

(it was what ~~he~~ _they_ deserved, honestly)

 ~~He~~ _They_ were tired.

( ~~he~~ _they_ really didn’t want to keep going)

So, ~~he~~ _they_ picked ~~himself~~ _themselves_ up off the floor and crawled in bed--the easiest, most convenient, and least suspicious way ~~he~~   _they_ knew to shut it all off for a while, ignoring the tightness of ~~his~~ _their_ skinny jeans and the stiffness of ~~his~~ _their_ hair from the sweat and the layer of dried sweat all over ~~his~~ _their_ body and sweaty smell from the show earlier it was grossgroSSGROSS

 ( _disgusting filthy abhorrent)_

_(just like you—shall I continue?)_

_(repulsive vile revolting sickening repugnant repelling loathsome foul appalling despicable sickening_ )

   ~~He~~ _They_ would shower in the morning (with swim trunks on—always with swim trunks on, ~~he~~ _they_ couldn’t bear to see that his? ( _THEIR)_ body was wrongwrong _wrong_ — ~~he~~ _they_ would always rush at the end and yank of ~~his~~ _their_ swim trunks and hurriedly rinse off, careful to not look anywhere except at the shower wall

(eyes up eyes uP don’t look down not a glimpse or it would all come rushing back iN)

                before rushing to turn off the shower that had probably gotten cold at that point

( ~~he~~ _they_ had read somewhere lonely people look longer showers to feel comforted and less alone)

                and hurriedly yanking the towel around ~~his~~ _their_ body— ~~he~~ _they_ didn’t dry off after showers because ~~he~~ _they_ wanted to be in clothing as soon as possible, Tyler just didn’t _get_ it

(but it wasn’t like Josh had every _tried_ to explain it)

Tyler would accept him, nO, _THEM_ —Josh punched a pillow in frustration, they were a **_THEY_ , NOT A HE NOT A HE THEY WERE NOT A HE NO MATTER WHAT OTHERS SAID**—that wasn’t a _question_ , Tyler would hug Josh and they would both continue on like Josh hadn’t just spilled _their_ guts to _their_ best friend because Tyler would know that it was just a part of who Josh was, just like how Josh knew that Tyler wouldn’t flip out, or just like how they both knew each other so well they could anticipate what the other would say.

But still, doubt lingered. 

Josh rolled over on to _their_ back and stared at the hotel ceiling, then pulled _their_ phone out and pulled up a playlist, jammed _their_ headphones in _their_ ears and pressed play before viciously shoving all thoughts out of _their_ head and rolling over on to _their_ side and closing _their_ eyes.  _They_ let the music wrap around _them,_ weaving a net of escapism and calmness before dropping off to sleep.

.:|:.

_And I know, and I know, life is simple when I can just ignore it all_

.:|:.

**Author's Note:**

> like i said, i didn't proofread it, so if there're mistakes feel free to point them out!  
> (also fun times, am i right--i definitely don't do this ahahahahah nope)


End file.
